


Three Sheets to the Wind

by orphan_account



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Drunk Sex, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcade and Boone have terrible sex in a cheap hotel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Sheets to the Wind

Boone was drunk when he knocked on Arcade's door, but it was alright because Arcade was drunk, too. They'd been circling one another for weeks, just a couple of junkyard dogs. It was inevitable that something should happen to break the tension between them, and going by the look in Boone's eyes, Arcade thought he knew what it'd be.

So he poured each of them another drink, and less than thirty minutes later, they ended up on the bed together. The foreplay was every bit as combative as Arcade had hoped it would be, snarls and scowls while they undid their flies and worked out who would be on top. Arcade came very close to biting Boone, but changed his mind at the last minute. He ended up kissing his collarbone instead, and if he thought that would be less weird than biting him, it wasn't. It was too much too soon and it stopped Boone in his tracks. For a moment, neither of them moved. The muffled bar noises floated up from below, and Arcade suddenly found himself wishing he'd gone with his first impulse and rented the robowhore.

FISTO probably didn't care about awkward collarbone kisses. FISTO was programmed to please.

Boone forewent the rest of the foreplay and caught their half-hard cocks in his fist. He moved his hips and his hands artlessly, creating a sensation that was not unpleasant. Arcade resolved not to make the evening any worse for the two of them, and laid back and attempted to relax. His mind was going a thousand miles per minute, but at length he managed to shut down all the extraneous thoughts and focused exclusively on what Boone was doing between his legs.

Boone's movements were growing more erratic. Between his posture and his facial expression and his tempo, Arcade could tell that he was close. Sure enough, he came a few strokes later, his semen leaking out from between his fingers. He withdrew immediately, leaving Arcade shivering on the bed while he wiped his hands on his pants and packed his dick away.

He stood back a few steps, and Arcade realized that Boone intended to watch him finish himself off. For a few brief seconds, his spite wrestled with his libido, and he considered rolling over and going to sleep and denying Boone his show. In the end, he decided he was hornier than he was proud, and he brought himself to climax while Boone watched with all the verve and passion of an industrial tumble dryer.

He was almost clinical in his detachment, and Arcade managed to tie that in with a juvenile fantasy about an attractive teacher he'd had during his first year of training with the Followers. If he just pretended that Boone was a dispassionate researcher and the setting was a laboratory instead of the Courier's room at the Atomic Wrangler. It almost worked for him, and he got himself off without too much more fuss.

After Arcade finished, Boone left without another word. The entire encounter had been staggeringly unerotic, but hot in its own weird way. Arcade was too drunk and too tired to devote much more thought to it, but his last thought before he fell asleep was a stomach-dropping realization: he and Boone hadn't actually managed to make things any less awkward and terrible between them.

Well, fuck.


End file.
